


passion and gentleness

by mermaidhanji



Series: Gwenoden, Roslin, Ishnah [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-11-02 00:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermaidhanji/pseuds/mermaidhanji
Summary: A collection of drabbles about Ishnah Adaar and Dorian Pavus.





	1. waterfall

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY I AM PUBLISHING THESE LOL i have a whole lot of drabbles and shit done for ishnah and dorian b/c they're really great boyfriends ok. they're great. this is the first with many more to come! also ishnah is a gay trans icon. have fun w/ these b/c i sure do. tags will be updated as i go!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @ thedreadgay!

The cool mist from the waterfall made Ishnah sigh. The Hinterlands villa was cleared, and the grime of travel and fighting sat uncomfortably on his skin, making the crystalline little pond behind the railing all the more tempting. It was a quiet moment, with the party of four just taking a breather—and ended when Ishnah set his staff aside, and stripped off his coat.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asked pointedly as he set his gloves down.

“I want to wash up,” he said simply. “We can take a short break.”

_“Here?” _

“Hey, we stuck all the baddies with arrows and whatever, right? No one around to catch us with our britches down.” Sera laughed, and dropped her quiver.

“That water will be freezing!” Dorian shivered, seemingly just at the thought of it. Ishnah was already shirking off his top, and he didn’t miss the way Dorian looked at him.

Their eyes met, and held with intensity that made them both smirk as Ishnah undid his pants. “And?”

He hopped the railing, splashing into the cold water. It barely reached his knees, so he sat directly under the waterfall, enjoying the chilly touch.

“Ice mages,” Dorian tutted good-naturedly.

“Coming through!” Sera cackled, naked and splashing loudly into the pond, sitting next to Ishnah with a sloshy plop.

Cassandra sighed. “Dorian and I will be on lookout, then,” she said and turned her back, leaning against the railing.

“We will?”

“I thought you did not want to go in the freezing water.”

“Well, maybe a splash to the face and under the arms, if I can find where I packed my kohl…”

While they bantered, Sera stuck her head under the cascade, gurgling like a fountain and making Ishnah chuckle. He undid the idle braids in his hair, combing it through with his hands, and felt content at the humdrum of his friends around him. He could feel when Dorian stole a glance at him, and Ishnah smiled, knowing and serene, trailing fingers through his long white hair under the waterfall.

Sera grinned through chattering teeth. She nudged Ishnah, cocked her head at Dorian, and in a flurry of wiggling eyebrows and suggestive hands, Ishnah understood her wordless: _You know how he’s thinking about you, right? _

“Mmhm,” Ishnah rumbled with a smile. Sera’s choppy laughter bounced off the rocks.


	2. brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off something that actually happened in my game lol that mine in the western approach is cursed af, but ofc it is since it's implied one of the old gods is sleeping beneath it. HAVE FUN WITH THAT LMAO
> 
> WARNING FOR: canon-typical violence and injury; i tried not to be too graphic, but we do still have some minor descriptions of wounds! be safe y'all

The abandoned mine creaked and groaned with something deep—very deep. The back of Ishnah’s neck tingled, and it wasn’t from the burning sun of the Approach; not quite like being watched, but not quite alone, either. Even on the surface, next to the yawning entrance in the ground, he could feel it.

“Are we good to go?” Blackwall asked next to him.

Ishnah glanced once more at the Venatori note in his hand, and pocketed it, trying to push the feeling away. His legs tugged him further from the hole, and whatever faint drone came from it; he tried not to feel like he was turning his back on a wild predator. “I think so. Let’s move.”

“Fine by me,” Varric muttered, glancing at a Red Templar banner drifting in the sandy breeze. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dorian concurred with a frown… and as he said it, something dark and quick as shadow darted behind his shoulder. 

Ishnah’s staff was bared and glowing in the blink of an eye. “We’re not alone—”

The stab of a dagger and Dorian’s cry broke the heavy air, and the rest was a whirlwind; Ishnah could barely hear his own shout of _‘No!’_ past the pounding of his pulse, and he bared his teeth and clenched a hand, and ice gripped the figure around the ribs—a White Claw footpad dropped their bloody dagger with a gasp. Metal shrieked against metal to Ishnah’s left, Varric swore and Bianca clanked to his right, and in front of him, Dorian hit the ground with a rolling _thump-thump_ as he crumbled.

A crossbow bolt thudded and shattered the footpad’s frozen ribs, the force of it sending them tumbling back with a grotesque sound. Electricity blasted from Ishnah’s staff at one of the raiders, making them jolt and shudder, and Blackwall’s axe bit into their exposed neck. Another bolt _thunked_ into the third raider’s sword arm, and they dropped their blade with a cry—making it easy for Blackwall to finish the job.

As quickly as they had appeared, the White Claw raiders all lay unmoving on the ground, Dorian among them. Ishnah rushed over, his staff falling in the dirt as he went to his knees. “Dorian, wake up,” Ishnah urged, tearing back the pale robes that were blooming with scarlet. The stab wound was deep in his shoulder; a few inches to the left, and it would have been fatal, Ishnah realized. He felt sick, and there was a tremble to his hands as he poured his water skin over the wound. “Someone wake him up. And someone make sure those raiders are dead.”

“On it,” Blackwall said gruffly, his armour clanking as he moved. Varric kneeled with Ishnah as the mage’s hands lit up in a bright glow.

“Come on, Sparkler.” Varric lightly smacked Dorian’s cheek. “You can catch your beauty sleep later.” Ishnah may have laughed at the absurdity of it if he weren’t so damn terrified.

His steady hum of magic stirred in the tear, and he felt the deepest fissure begin to mend. Varric gently flicked Dorian’s nose, and the man groaned quietly. Ishnah’s heart jumped. “Dorian,” he said louder now, “Dorian!”

Dorian groaned again. “Ishnah?” His name came out as a low murmur, and Ishnah had never felt relief quite like the way it swept over him then.

“I’m here.” He sounded steadier than he felt. “You were badly hurt. Open your eyes, and stay with me, okay?”

Dorian drew his brows together, and slowly blinked open his eyes, squinting from the sun. “Wasn’t I standing just a minute ago?” He mumbled like there was cotton in his mouth.

“Yeah, and then we were ambushed by some White Claws. You just got the short end of the stick.” Varric shrugged apologetically. “But they ended up more of a mess than you.” He looked up at Blackwall. “Right?”

“Right.” Blackwall approached, hanging his bloody axe at his side. “All dead.”

Ishnah nodded, but said nothing, narrowing his eyes in focus. He kept his breaths full and deep as he maintained the healing spell, sensing the sinew pull taut into place, torn muscle bonding smoothly together.

Varric offered Dorian a tired smile. “Try not to scare the shit out of us like that, okay?”

“I will deign in the future _not_ to be literally backstabbed, as much as I love bleeding like a pig and getting sand in my mouth.” Dorian punctuated it with a spit, and a grimace that could only be half seen with his cheek still pressed to the ground.

Blackwall rumbled a laugh. “He’s still sassing, he’ll be fine.”

It drew a short, amused snort from Ishnah and a quirk of his lips; it was all he could spare from the spell. A thin sheen of sweat gathered on his forehead from the effort. Then, with a final push and seal, he let the light in his hands dim with a sigh. “There. That should be the worst of it.”

Varric helped Dorian sit up, and Ishnah patted the bloody water from his back with a section of the ruined robe. “Feeling okay?” Varric asked.

“I’ve certainly been better,” Dorian grumbled, brushing off his cheek. “But I didn’t die embarrassingly in the middle of nowhere, so that’s a start. I am a beacon of positivity, after all.”

It was funny, Ishnah supposed, that the dry sarcasm could soothe his nerves as it did. He was smiling softly when he handed a potion to Dorian. Their fingers brushed, and then Dorian was returning the smile, their gazes meeting. His tone was gentler now, and Ishnah could hear the honesty of his words like a peek into his heart: “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“You two have plenty of time to gaze into each other’s eyes once we’re back at camp,” Blackwall snorted. Dorian choked a bit on the healing potion. Ishnah carefully patted his other shoulder and chuckled; not sheepish, but full of a gentle joy.

“Awh, let them have their moment,” Varric insisted with humour.

“What, so you can write about it later?” Blackwall laughed, and Varric raised a hand to his chest in mock offense.

After a drink of water, Ishnah helped Dorian stand, and the party made their way. Dorian leaned heavily against him as they walked, and Ishnah held him close, glad to leave behind the bloodied corpses and groaning pit.

* * *

In the low light of the tent, Ishnah could just see Dorian’s wince as he poured water over the wound. “Sorry.”

Dorian took a long swig of his ale. In lieu of something stronger, it would have to do for the numbing. “Oh, don’t worry about me. A little stinging is nothing.”

“I know.” Ishnah held the needle flat in his palm and conjured a hot flame. “But it’s hard not to worry about you. Especially when you get a dagger in the shoulder.”

Dorian huffed a soft, fond little laugh; it made something within Ishnah flutter. “Such a gentle heart for the Inquisitor.”

Ishnah leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Dorian’s uninjured shoulder. “Is that a bad thing?”

Dorian reached up to trail a feather-light touch through Ishnah’s hair, making him sigh in delight. “Not at all,” he replied with a smile in his voice.

A low chuckle bubbled from Ishnah, and he gave one more kiss before pulling back. He let the fire fade from his palm, now cooling the needle with a touch of icy fingertips. “Hope you still think I’m gentle once I’m done jabbing you,” he said playfully, threading the needle.

“Isn’t that the dichotomy of all healers? Sweet and prone to pecking as a mother hen?”

“I suppose.” Ishnah’s lips quirked up. “Though I don’t know if I would consider myself a healer.”

“Should I be worried?” Dorian asked, shooting him a cheeky smirk over his shoulder.

Ishnah laughed. “Just hold still.”

The tent fell into silence as Ishnah worked, stitching the gash with attentive care. The only sounds were Dorian’s breathing, knocking back ale between sutures, and muffled murmurs and footsteps of the camp’s scouts.

It wasn’t long before he tied off the last stitch, cutting the loose thread. “All done.”

“Well! That wasn’t too bad at all.” Dorian’s voice lowered—flirty, or perhaps captivated. “And for the record—I find you even gentler, if that’s possible.”

Ishnah puffed a short, breathless laugh, almost bashful. “Still trying to make me blush even as I patch your stab wound?” He asked as he rinsed and sanitized the needle again.

“You do look ever so lovely that way.” Dorian tilted his head, sly. “Besides, it’s working.”

Ishnah couldn’t help but grin while he set aside the supplies. “Maybe.” His cheeks did feel warm. He washed off his hands, and turned back to find Dorian still gazing at him.

“Thank you, Ishnah,” he said softly.

Ishnah practically melted. He scooted back to Dorian, and finally, they shared a delicate kiss. Ishnah sighed as they parted, resting their foreheads together. He held and was held so tenderly, his hand on Dorian’s nape and Dorian’s resting at his jaw. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” Ishnah murmured, and his brows drew together. “That scared me.”

“I’m alright.” Dorian kissed one cheek, then the other. “I’m here.” He brought their lips together again, light but long, and Ishnah thought he would float away. “You like scars on a man, don’t you?” He asked then.

It eased Ishnah to snicker. “They’re nice.”

“See, then this fiasco wasn’t all for naught. I have another touch to my dashing looks, and you get to swoon over me! It’s a win for all. Except for those raiders, but their beds were made when they thought to pounce on us, hm?”

Ishnah snorted, and grinned. “I suppose so.”

There was a happy gleam to Dorian’s eye—did Ishnah’s laughter cause that? The thought made his heart skip. He marvelled, as they kissed again, that they could bring each other joy in the midst of such a scare.

It made Ishnah brave.


	3. nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM HERE COLLEGE IS JUST KICKING MY ASS i just wanna stay home and write dorishnah :( but at least i got this done!!!!

Ishnah inhaled sharply as he jolted awake, his hands knotted in the sheets.

“Are you alright?” Dorian murmured beside him, full of concern. They hadn’t moved since falling asleep, Dorian’s arm still over his waist, now hugging him close. Ishnah’s panting began to even, and he relaxed, unfurling his clenched hands. He was with Dorian; he was safe.

“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “Yeah, I’m alright. Did I wake you?”

“No, no, I was drifting in and out.” Dorian caressed his cheek. “Bad dream?” 

Ishnah nodded silently. Dorian drew him in, and Ishnah nestled his face in the crook of Dorian’s neck, careful of his horns. He thought of the Fade, and the whispering demons—if he focused, he could feel the anchor thrum. But Dorian gently stroked his hair, kissed his temple, and it brought Ishnah back, making him sigh. Dorian’s scent was all around, and Ishnah realized it was becoming like home.

He liked the quiet; it didn’t have to be filled between them. But Ishnah found himself whispering like a confession: “They’ve been worse, since the anchor. But after the Fade…”

Dorian tightened his hold, if only slightly, and before Ishnah finished his thought, he kissed Dorian’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’m alright,” he repeated.

“Which continues to baffle me, but I’m not one to look a gift mage in the mouth,” Dorian muttered.

That garnered a quiet chuckle, still rough with sleep. He continued: “The Fade gave me a different perspective on bad dreams.”

Dorian’s tone was curious. “Oh?”

Ishnah hummed. “After facing that demon…” He thought of the Nightmare, its many eyes upon him and its horrible mandibles dripping—but nothing could hurt him in Dorian’s arms. “I’ve seen what nightmares are made of. Seeing it means I know it, and knowing it makes it less frightening.”

Dorian was quiet for a moment, then marveled; “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Ishnah raised his head with a frown. “Have you been having bad dreams too?”

“Don’t we all?” Dorian gave him a soft smile, and cupped his cheek. “You’ll get wrinkles if you pout like that, you know.”

“Dorian.”

“I’m alright, _amatus._ Just as you are. Knowing it makes it less frightening, after all.”

Ishnah returned the smile, and he turned to kiss Dorian’s palm. “You know I’m here for you.”

“I know.” The words were so soft, Ishnah thought he would melt. “Which is still rather strange to me, for someone to care as you do.” Ishnah twined their fingers together, and he quietly rejoiced in the way it brightened Dorian’s smile. “But I’d say you’re doing a fine job.”

Ishnah kissed their joined hands with tenderness, then brought their lips together. It was delicate as the moonlight through the windowpanes, and safe as soft shadows to those who don’t fear the night.


End file.
